


The Warrior

by Noseyimags



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A bit of an au???, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death, Developing Friendships, Family Issues, Fighting, Guns, Human Experimentation, I use google translate so I apologize, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Russian, Violence, but non really, i really don’t know what to tag this, other language, reunited, this is a mess, vague depictions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noseyimags/pseuds/Noseyimags
Summary: "New York."It played through the nine year old's mind like a record as she silently flipped through the atlas in her hands. She couldn't find it anywhere in South Africa, so she flipped the page again."New York."The words stuck out to her, screaming and jumping off the page. She lightly brushed her fingers over the white print that stood out against the green of the map. She found it in North America, almost at the edge of the continent. She studied it a bit longer before she heard people coming. Slamming the book shut, she put it back on the shelf and ran back to her room."I'm going to New York."(This is the original author’s (me, noseyimagines) new account)





	1. zero

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

That was the only noise able to be heard from the tiny, awful, bone chilling room.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

It was the only constant thing in her life, the buzzing of the too bright fluorescent lights above her head.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

The only constant that wasn’t painful, terrifying, awful.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

It was almost comforting to her by now. It was the noise she fell asleep to, the noise she came back to, what she woke up to. It was always there. She liked it.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

She remembered when the noise wasn’t there: she had been in so much pain from one of her sessions, she screamed. The lights in her room and many rooms down the hall had been blown out.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

That was probably one of the worst weeks of her life. Her only comforting constant was gone, and the sessions picked up more than ever. She had only picked up several pieces from conversations in between. The words “Working” and “Finally” had been their own constant.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

The young girl stared up at the buzzing fluorescent light, trying to relax and let the pain leave her body. The pain was never there for long, whatever they had been injecting her with had started urging her body to heal faster than what should be humanly possible. But what she had noticed recently, was that nothing about her was humanly possible.

 

With a small groan, the girl pushed herself up on the bed, sitting up to stare at the door. It was clear, made of bulletproof glass. She could see a guard standing at attention on the other side. She didn’t understand why the extra measures, but didn’t verbally question it. She wouldn’t get the answers she wanted, and would only be punished accordingly.

 

Their form of punishment was more sessions, and training.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

Her bandaged feet touched the cold, concrete floor. It was almost soothing, parts of her skin felt like they were on fire and the cold was a temporary relief. She almost sighed at the feeling.

 

Her arms felt weak, but she managed to push herself up into a standing position. The pain was beginning to wear away, the tiny pin prick wounds in her arms, legs, and neck were beginning to heal under the bandages. She wouldn’t remove them though. She learned her lesson the last time.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

The last time she had removed the bandages, things deemed unnecessary since her wounds were gone, she was sent back into training almost immediately. It was one of the most painful training sessions she had ever gone through. She had been pushed to her limits, and brought back multiple times. Pushed and pushed until her limits had begun to get further away. Until she was stronger. They had been trying to speed up the process of whatever the hell they had been doing.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

She used to fight kids her age, that’s what they looked like at least. Truthfully, she didn’t know how old she was. She just understood that the people she used to fight had been about the same size as her. And she understood that at the time, compared to all the other people in the building, she was small. That made her a child.

 

She beat the other children every time.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

At some point, she had moved on to bigger people, mostly men three times her size. Occasionally she would fight a woman, but she mostly fought muscular men with mean looks on their faces. It took awhile for her to finally beat one of them. A lot of beatings, a lot of broken bones that healed too quickly to be natural, a lot of blood. But she did it.

 

She did it again, and again, and again.

 

Until it only took her four seconds to take the man down. It didn’t matter which one, they all had been taken down in a matter of seconds, by a small child.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

Recently, though, she had begun to fight a man who, truthfully, scared her to the core. She didn’t feel very many emotions, she had been taught not to, but he scared her. He was tall, it felt like he was too tall. His eyes, when she could even see them, were a piercing blue, and it felt like they could see right through her. Sometimes, they looked confused, or sad. But, that was usually only for a day. The next time she’d see him, all emotion like that was like it had been completely erased.

 

He didn’t really talk, and neither did she. She was the only one to ever speak, though. The only thing she ever said to him was when she addressed him as “Soldier” or “Sir” in her native language. She imagined that, if she ever were to hear his voice, it would be scary, just like the rest of him.

 

The scariest part about him, though, was that his left arm was made entirely out of metal.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

From what she had heard from the others, he was probably the strongest man in the world.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

She slowly walked towards the slowly breaking wooden chair at the end of her bed. It was sat in front of a small bedside table, which held a lamp and sheets of blank paper. There was a dully sharpened pencil set on top of the papers.

 

The lamp barely let off any light, it was mostly just something for her to toggle with. She felt the buzz of electricity dance on her fingertips, and watched as the lamp dulled and brightened only slightly. She sat down on the chair, and picked up the pencil, dating the top of two pieces of paper.

 

_November 12, 2011_

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

The world.

 

Her world consisted of this very building. She didn’t think she'd ever been outside before, her only memories were of this very building. It was dark and dreary, filled with bad people and even worse memories, but that was what she was used to.

 

She knew that there were different things outside of the building that weren’t inside, like different types of plants and animals. There were different languages, different ones from the very first one she learned to speak. And the second one, all the way to the seventh. She had read that there were so many more languages in the world.

 

Which meant there were so many different countries, cities and towns.

 

There were so many different people in the world.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the security camera in the corner of the room, constantly monitoring her.

 

With a twitch of her fingers, she took it out, manipulating the constant pulse of electricity in the machine. Only for a couple seconds, it would be up and running as quick as it had been taken out. But, she quickly wrote what she needed on the paper before it turned back on.

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

_‘Session today. Bad, as always. Healing faster. Have not seen Soldier in couple days, which means no training. Been outside not so much, only for sessions. I've figured out plan to leave, where I’m going. I'll be gone soon.’_

 

_Bzzzzzzzz_

 

She quickly shoved one of the pieces of paper under her mattress, which had a bunch of other pieces of paper much like the one she had just written, once she heard and felt the camera starting up. She moved back towards the papers and started doodling a tree, a drawing she had seen in one of her books.

 

The guard at her door turned slightly to peak at her, only seeing her at the desk, as she was before. He turned back around.

 

A fluttery feeling welled up in her stomach. It was foreign, something she had never felt before. It came back stronger when she thought about her plan to escape. The lamp on the table dimmed and brightened, and the buzzing fluorescent light seemed to buzz louder with each thought of her future.

 

_**Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……….** _


	2. one

2 Years, 2 Months, and 2 Days Later

Upper Manhattan, New York

January 13, 2014

 6:42 am

 

The early morning sun peeked through the pink curtains of the shared bedroom, creating a gentle and peaceful haze around the slumbering girls. It was quiet, save for the distant sounds of early morning New York traffic, and the snores coming from a few of the girls. Quiet music could be heard from a different room in the house down the hall, keeping some of the younger girls calm and asleep.

 

It was currently 6:42 am, and none of the girls had to be up for school until 7:15. Except for one fourteen year old girl, who was currently sorting things into a worn out, torn up black and blue book bag. Wires and odd pieces of junk metal, old computer bits, were shoved carelessly into the obviously old bag. A couple of rusting tools, wire cutters, pliers, a screwdriver, were placed into a smaller front pocket, along with a Swiss Army knife that had already been in there. Next, she shoved in a notebook, a blue glitter pen clipped to the rings on the side. A pair of sunglasses, the type you’d see bikers wearing, were then thrown in, and she zipped up the bag as quickly and quietly as possible.

 

The girl’s bag rustled loudly as she moved it to the bed, which in turn squeaked quite obnoxiously against the weight. She cringed as she looked around the room, making sure none of the other girls had been disturbed by the sound. None of them seemed to have heard anything, so she adjusted herself to quickly throw on the dirty and slightly too big converse she owned. She tied the laces into a double knot, securing them to her feet. The fourteen year old then quickly stood up and threw on her jacket, rolling up the grey sleeves so that her hands weren’t entirely covered. She swung the heavy book bag onto her back, and began her trek to the front door of the house.

 

Every step she took was calculated, having lived here, and left here, long enough she knew where each creaky floorboard was. Her muscle memory of the building’s floor plan was phenomenal, and she liked to silently pride herself on it. She made it to the door without a sound, and quickly slipped out, leaving the peacefully sleeping girls in her wake.

 

Her steps were hurried, but silent as she rushed towards the stairs. She wanted to get out before anyone woke up to see her, or try to stop her. Not that she disliked where she was, or who she lived with, not at all. She just had other things to do and didn’t feel like being held up. Nothing else.

 

The young girl flung one of her legs over the railing to the steps, straddling it to make it easier for her to silently reach the first floor. She had quickly found out that the steps were the creakiest part of the whole building. Every step sounded like an animal begging to be put out of its misery. To make it worse, it seemed to be louder every time she tried to be quieter. So she figured out a different way to make her way down. With a push, she slid easily down, quickly reaching her destination. She swung her body of the railing, but as soon as her feet met the floor, she knew she had been caught.

 

“(Y/n).”

 

Hearing her name be called in an, admittedly, scarily calm voice, (Y/n) turned around. Her eyes landed on Sister Victoria, the nun who owned the orphanage in which she lived. She was a beautiful woman, even in her old age. Her eyes were a bright green, which were surrounded by wrinkles from all the smiling she had done in her lifetime.

Sister Victoria’s skin was tan, partly from her Italian descent, partly from years of constantly being outside in the sun. Her hair, which was rarely seen from under the headpiece she wore, was long, wavy and gray. She was also only about five feet tall, but that didn’t stop her from being completely intimidating when need be, kind of like right now. The old nun’s posture easily told (Y/n) everything she was thinking and was about to do. Her arms were crossed, one hip was slightly jutted out. Her thin lips were pursed while one eyebrow was raised. Her green eyes held a glimmer in them, one that (Y/n) recognized all too well, sadly.

 

“Sister Victoria. Good morning.” She said, internally cringing at the very obvious accent she couldn’t shake.

 

The morning sun filtering in through the huge window above the front double doors made the old woman look even more intimidating. Specs of dust could be seen in the rays of light, flying around the room carelessly. In that moment, (Y/n) would rather be a speck of dust floating around than hear the tangent Sister Victoria was about to go on. In the 637 days she had lived in the orphanage, yes she’d been counting, she had heard the same speech from the woman about 312 times, about to be 313. She wasn’t very interested in hearing it again.

 

(Y/n) cleared her throat and turned to fully face the woman. She tried her hardest to sincerely smile at her, it instead turned into a goofy looking, crooked grin. (Y/n) was a good liar when it came to any other situation or person, but when it came to Sister Victoria, she had a difficult time.

 

“I was just, you know, getting an early breakfast in. Most important meal of the day, right?”

 

Her words came out squeaky, and (Y/n) knew there was no use as soon as Sister Victoria’s eyebrow rose a little higher, and her head tilted forward. The awkward smile fell from her face, instead settling into an emotionless look. The nun sighed, relaxing her posture to give (Y/n) an exasperated look.

 

“(Y/n)-”

 

“Yes, yes I know Sister. You’d rather me attend the school, you don’t like not knowing where I am, etcetera. I’ve heard it 312 times.”

 

(Y/n)’s words were rather blunt, not that she meant it to sound like that. That was just how they came out. The nun wasn't phased by her tone.

 

Sister Victoria’s eyes softened, giving (Y/n) a different look. One full of understanding. She let out a tired sigh and uncrossed her arms. The old nun walked towards the troubled teen, softly grabbing her hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. (Y/n)’s cold facade didn’t seem to change with the warm gesture.

 

“And after 312 times, I wish you’d listen and just make an attempt. It would put my old heart at ease.”

 

(Y/n) squeezed her hands back with a furrowed brow. Before Sister Victoria could open her mouth to continue speaking, (Y/n) beat her to it.

 

“I would rather not have to remind you, but we’ve had this conversation before.” (Y/n) looked down at their hands, thinking carefully of her next words. “I appreciate everything you've done, sincerely. And you know I trust your judgement as much as my own, but school is completely different and foreign to me, and I see it as useless. I doubt I’d safely interact with other children my age, you see how I already am around the others here.”

 

(Y/n) looked up from their linked hands, and into her caretaker’s eyes. “I’m sorry that you worry about where I go, but for the safety of everyone here, I’d rather you not be in my personal affairs. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

 

Sister Victoria looked down at their linked hands, smiling and shaking her head.

 

“I know.” She sighed. “I know you can take care of yourself, its just in me to worry. I look after 25 girls, and you’re one of them. I don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all. All I ask is that you stay safe, look after yourself.” She looked (Y/n) in the eyes, a cheeky look on her face. She brought one hand up and pinched (Y/n)'s cheek lightly in a loving manner. “If you ever change your mind, I truly believe you could skip a grade, get into one of those science high schools early.”

 

(Y/n) smiled at the shorter woman, a genuine smile that made her face seem lighter, like she didn’t go through more than a fourteen year old should. Sister Victoria was one of the only people who truly believed in her, and (Y/n) appreciated everything the old woman did for her. And she did a lot for (Y/n). She picked her up off the street, gave her a place to live, food and clothes. She even lied, saying she was homeschooling (Y/n), simply because she believed in her, and understood that being in a school full of normal children would only make her uncomfortable.

 

She was also the only person who knew about her past, and would do anything to keep those people from ever getting to her again. Ever.

 

(Y/n) looked into Sister Victoria’s eyes. She leaned forward a bit, and whispered a “thank you.” so sincere it took Sister Victoria’s breath away.

 

(Y/n) straightened up, gently tugging her hands away so that she could shove them in her jacket pockets. Interacting with people like that for too long would make her feel kinda… weird, so she’d pull away. (Y/n) turned around, facing the door and getting ready to leave for the day.

 

“I’ll be back later. Please don’t wait up for me.”

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

 

(Y/n) turned around, a slightly confused look on her face. What could she have forgotten? But when she saw the green bills in Sister Victoria’s hand, she couldn’t help but sigh.

 

“I told you I don’t need money, I’m okay.” She said, silently pleading with the woman to not make her take the money. (Y/n) felt that the woman already did enough for her.

 

The cheeky look was back on Sister Victoria’s face.

 

“I wouldn’t want you to skip breakfast, dear. It’s the most important meal of the day, right?”

 

______

 

The morning air was chilly, cold enough to leave little puffs of fog in the air every time (Y/n) breathed. The grass was still covered in frost from the cold of the night, and there were tiny icicles hanging off of window panes that would melt once the sun started warming the earth up. The people walking to work and school were all properly bundled up, scarves wrapped around their faces and gloves covering their hands, protecting them from the chill.

 

(Y/n) liked this kind of weather, the cold. Winter was when everything went into hibernation, and people tended to stay inside more. It was peaceful, serene. Not to mention that an undisturbed park covered in snow was a beautiful sight. Plus, she didn’t get cold as easily as everyone else it seemed. It was comfortable to her, a nice chilly temperature. She hated the pesky insects of the summer, and the heat got to her more easily. It made her sick, really. Spring was nice, bumble bees were tolerable because she understood they were required for earth to continue living, and they weren’t out for her blood like others. She also liked the rain that came more in the spring. Autumn was also nice, but she didn’t understand the holidays. Dressing up and scaring each other, gathering sweets from strangers, eating so much you got sick in the celebration of your country being founded? She just didn’t really get it.

 

So winter was her favorite season. It was docile and quiet and peaceful and comfy. Relaxing. And what she needed in her life was relaxing.

 

The sidewalk (Y/n) was walking on was fairly empty, a few people walking behind and in front of her. One man in front of her was wearing a longer black coat, a brief case in one hand while the other was holding a phone up to his ear. His conversation was kept quiet, but it was obviously business. (Y/n) could tell by his posture and the way he walked. There was a couple behind her, holding hands and speaking in hushed voices. They looked to be maybe seventeen, heading to school for the day. They had obviously been together for a long time, the girl with the long blonde hair leaned against the other girl with shoulder length light brown hair. Smiles occupied their faces, along with soft blushes from the cold wind.

 

There were a couple more uninteresting people around her, but she tried to pay them no mind. Her immediate instincts were to thoroughly inspect every person around her, deem them as not a threat. But, the longer (Y/n) stayed in New York, the more she tried to forget everything she was taught. There was no reason to inspect the people around her. The couple behind her wasn’t going to whip out a knife and try to slit her throat, and the businessman in front of her wasn’t going to try and take her hostage.

 

Usually, (Y/n) could ignore the urge to sneakily look around, inspect everything around her, but today was… different. She couldn’t get rid of this itch on the back of her neck. She knew exactly what it meant; someone was staring at her.

 

It wasn’t unusual for people to stare, maybe a little rude, but not unusual. So she brushed off the feeling and continued her walk, stopping at a crosswalk. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets as she fiddled with a loose string in one of them.

 

A new group of people gathered behind and around her as they waited for the light that looked like a red hand to turn into a person walking, signifying that it was safe to walk. (Y/n) shifted the book bag on her shoulders to redistribute the weight, when she felt that feeling again; being stared at. It couldn’t be brushed off, it felt too unlike just a curious gaze. If felt like someone was sizing her up, trying to see what type of person she was. It was a calculating gaze that she had felt too many times, one that put her on edge and made her worry.

 

She didn’t know if she was overreacting, but as soon as the light changed, she was one of the first to get to the other side. Not fast enough to bring attention to herself, but fast enough to make it look like she was running late and in a hurry. Her thoughts were of things she hadn’t been forced to worry about in 410 days.

 

_They were back._

 

_They found her._

 

_They’d found the orphanage._

 

_They’d kill Sister Victoria, and all the other innocent girls._

 

The feeling followed her across the street, and down the two turns she had made. She was being followed, and she didn’t appreciate the feeling. Her dominant hand reached into her jacket pocket and gripped the small, gold and white pocket knife she kept on her person at all times. She never left the orphanage without it.

 

A knife wound from self defense would be easier to explain than a fourteen year old being able to take down a grown man.

 

(Y/n) tried to analyze the people around her again. The couple and the businessman from before we’re gone, instead replaced by a couple of normal looking people. One was smoking a cigarette, most of them were on their phones. None of them arouse suspicion in her.

 

The feeling stayed with her for about ten minutes, then suddenly disappeared just as she was turning to walk into a 24 hour convenience store. The familiar chime of the bell hanging from the door brought a sense of relief to her.

 

Maybe she had just been overreacting, maybe it was just some creep. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

 

(Y/n) perused the aisles, finding a small treat and a drink for her breakfast. While she didn’t like taking money from Sister Victoria, she knew the old woman wouldn’t take the money back, and (Y/n) didn’t like holding on to it, or stashing it away. So, she’d spend it the way she was told to.

 

She grabbed something cheap, and walked up to the counter. While waiting for the familiar shoppe owner to finish checking out the person before her, she eyed some of the candies underneath the counter. There was a large assortment of candy bars, chocolates, peanut butter and chocolate, sticky candy, everything. She’d never really tried any of it, didn’t really plan on it, but the one candy had always caught her attention.

 

Pop Rocks.

 

She didn’t understand how they worked, but she knew she wanted to try them. She wasn’t going to waste any of the money Sister Victoria had given her, though. So, she’d just continue to imagine what they tasted like.

 

The man in front of her turned and walked away, the ding of the door drawing the teenager out of her daydreams. (Y/n) looked towards the smiling cashier. She was a familiar face, this convenience store having been a frequent spot for (Y/n) on her morning travels.

 

She was the store owner, her name was Mrs Ricci. Mrs Ricci was about the same height as (Y/n), with a plump frame. She was about 46, and had 5 kids. Her hair was long, curly, and dark brown, with a few exceptions of greying pieces. Her skin was an olive color, and had very few wrinkles, the only ones prominent were around her mouth and eyes, obviously from years of smiling and laughing. Mrs Ricci’s eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and were a very homely image.

 

She was one of the few people (Y/n) had actually liked, and would fully converse with. That much was obvious.

 

“Good morning, (Y/n)! Busy day ahead?”

 

Mrs Ricci was born and raised on Staten Island, so when she spoke she had a prominent accent. In a way, speaking with Mrs Ricci made (Y/n) feel not so bad about her own.

 

(Y/n) offered no smile in return, only a quiet greeting while placing her items on the counter. The shop owner never seemed to mind, she mostly thought (Y/n) was going through a phase like most teenagers did, or that she was just extremely shy. It didn’t bother Mrs Ricci one bit to do all the smiling for the both of them.

 

Mrs Ricci read the total to (Y/n), who in turn pulled the bills from the back pocket of her jeans.

 

“How’s Dominick?”

 

(Y/n)’s voice was quiet, but Mrs Ricci heard the question all the same. Having raised 5 children, her ears had become accustomed to picking up every single tiny sound. Dominick was one of her children, second oldest at 15 years old. Mrs Ricci often talked about him and how he was going through a somewhat rebellious phase. She chuckled while taking the money from the young teenager’s hand, and opening the cash register.

 

“Dominick is, well, Dominick. There’s no other way to put it.”

 

(Y/n) hummed, opening her hand to take the couple of coins from the woman, only to throw them in the small jar off to the side for some charity.

 

“Would you like a bag?”

 

“No, thank you though.”

 

(Y/n) grabbed the items from the counter while shrugging her bag from her shoulders. She placed the heavy bag onto the counter and unzipped it, stuffing her breakfast into the main pocket before anything slipped out. She zipped up the book bag and whipped it over her head, looping the straps around her arms.The young girl gave a small, quick wave to Mrs Ricci as she turned towards the door, getting ready to walk out.

 

Mrs Ricci smiled a large, toothy grin, while giving a big wave towards the girl.

 

“Be safe (Y/n)!”

 

(Y/n) stopped walking while holding the door open. She turned around and looked at Mrs Ricci. A small, barely there smile was on her lips.

 

“I’ll try. Have a good day.”

 

And with that, (Y/n) turned and walked out of the door and down the now almost crowded sidewalk.

 

                                 ______

 

It was 8:20 am when (Y/n) noticed something was wrong again. She had been walking for a good hour from the convenience store, and was close enough to her destination. There was hardly anyone around, it was a run down neighborhood that really only held families, so it made sense for no one to really be outside. Still, a few stragglers walked through, minding their own business.

 

But the itch on the back of her neck said differently, and wouldn’t let her ignore it anymore. Someone was staring at her, following her, even this far out from the main area of the city. While there was absolutely no way of being able to tell who it was without seeking them out, she couldn’t help but assume. Which put her on edge. She didn’t stop walking or visibly tense up, but she did grip the knife in her pocket a little tighter in her hand.

 

But just like that, it was gone. It was like the gentle breeze blew it away.

 

(Y/n) took a chance and looked over her shoulder, trying to see if there was any trace of the weirdo who had been following her. But, just as she thought, there was nothing. With a huff through her nose, she turned forward and began walking again.

 

She could handle herself should anything get in her way, she knew that much. (Y/n) wondered if they did too.

 

                    ______

 

9:56 was when she finally arrived at her destination; an old, unused and rundown warehouse. Or was it a factory? (Y/n) didn’t really know, nor did she care. It was an old building with a second open story, and a couple of offices on the first floor. It was huge, and was perfect. Nobody came around there, she had sat there for two days once to make sure, and it was far from the city; a whole two hour walk from the orphanage. It was quiet, peaceful, and alone.

 

(Y/n) marched through the overgrown grass around the building towards the large metal double doors. She tugged the creaky and rusting doors open with little effort. She definitely didn’t make a note in her mind that opening the doors would be difficult for someone unlike her.

 

What greeted her on the other side was a dark, dusty, old building. There were broken parts all over the floor from computers, televisions, old cellphones. There wasn’t a thing on that floor that was intact. There were wires hanging from the ceiling and the railings from the second floor, which was rotting and barely stable.

 

There were a couple of offices along the walls further back, the signs that had previously been hanging on the doors to identify who held the office were long gone, somewhere on the floor with everything else. She had inspected those first, before anything else in the building, when she first found it. There were a couple holes in the corners of the rooms from animals digging in and out, so she never really used them. There was barely any light, only a couple spots from the holes in the ceiling and roof.

 

All in all, it looked like something from a horror movie, but that never bothered (Y/n) any. Nothing really scared her to begin with.

 

With a huff, (Y/n) took a step in and turned around, reading out to pull the doors shut again. They creaked and groaned, weathered down from being unused for years before (Y/n) found the place and made it her own. They shut with a slam that echoed throughout the building. The young girl bent down and picked up a thick wire, planning to use it to tie the door shut. She grabbed each end and gave it a firm tug, pulling to make sure it was strong enough. She never really locked the door, knowing that she’d obviously be able to hear if someone came in, but the feeling of someone following her earlier had put her on edge, made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to risk anything.

 

She wrapped the wire around the handles a few times, making sure they weren’t loose at all, before tying it not once, not twice, but three times. She pushed on the doors a couple times, making sure they barely moved. She turned back around, finally satisfied with it. She wiped her hands on her jeans and exhaled, finally relaxing now that she knew she was alone. She turned around and started walking towards a ladder that had been pulled up and hung from a landing on the second floor. There were white Christmas lights wrapped around the side bars.

 

(Y/n) jumped up and grabbed one of the climbing bars and pulled it down. When (Y/n) heard the clang of metal on metal, she started to climb. When she got to the top, she pushed one of the sheets away so that she could crawl up onto the platform. She reached over the edge and pulled the ladder back up so that, if someone had managed to get into the building, they couldn't climb up there as well. She put an old bike lock around the bar of the ladder and the railing. The landing was like a little room. There were some pillows, a couple sheets acting as walls, and a rug. There was a tattered folding lawn chair and a small wooden table that (Y/n) had built herself from scrap wood she found in an alleyway. It was very, very poorly made, but it worked. Christmas lights hung from around the railings and the lawn chair. There were about four magazines and a couple torn up books that she’d gotten from the library lying on the homemade table. They were throwing them out, so she took them with her. She gave some to the orphanage as well. She had read them all fairly quickly, enjoying the fantasy section most. The teenager found it exciting, and sometimes found herself wishing she could fight orcs, saving princesses and townsfolk. Then reality hit her, and she called herself foolish and childish for even thinking that way.

 

She got to her feet and walked over to a wooden box she sat right in front of the railing. She stepped up on the box and pushed a slit in the sheets to the side, showing the railing to the next landing. (Y/n) grabbed it, pulling herself up onto the next landing. The steps that connect the previous area to the top landing were rusted and (Y/n) simply didn’t trust them. She threw her legs over the railing and pushed herself off. When her feet hit the floor she started walking over to a large, metal table that had a billion things on it. Wires, pliers, pens and pencils, disassembled computers, a bunch of sharp metal and tools. There was also a lamp, a stool, and a worn notebook with paper almost spilling out of it. Even though she brought a whole different notebook, she’d need a new one soon.

 

(Y/n) made her way over to the table. She stopped at one end of it, reaching over to grab a large black surge protector that she had found in the building when she first started coming by. It had a couple things plugged into it; the lamp and the Christmas lights. It obviously wasn’t going to work plugged into any wall, so (Y/n) had opted for just ripping the cord off.

 

She could make it work herself.

 

She could feel the electricity run down her arm, making the hairs stand on end. With a small jolt to the exposed wires, the lamp and all of the Christmas lights came to life. It didn’t stay on forever, the electricity would run out eventually, but it kept them on long enough.

 

(Y/n) walked away from the surge protector, and over to her stool. She threw the book bag onto the table, the sound slightly echoing off of the ceiling, and shaking the left over metal on the table. She unzipped it and let the contents spill out, catching her drink before it rolled off of the table. She opened it up and took a long sip, before finally taking a seat on the stool, making sure she was close enough to the table. The drink was set aside before she started pulling everything out, not bothering to sort anything into piles. That didn’t work for her.

 

Finally, what looked like metal and rubber bracelets were pulled out of the pile and set aside. They were the most important pieces, and she needed them put to the side so that she could work on them separately.

 

(Y/n) grabbed her sunglasses, put them on, and then grabbed a couple sets of wires. Her dominant hand reached out and grabbed a set of wire cutters, clipping the ends off before finally getting to work. She put her index and middle finger up into a peace sign, letting a jolt of electricity bounce between them a couple times before finally steadying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is,,, super long lmao. 4948 words in total. Pretty long to me for only a chapter. I felt like it was just getting way too long. This was how i cut it off in the original book, so I thought I’d just keep it the same. I definitely like this a lot, it took me a couple days to write. I had some trouble with the being followed and the convenience store part, seeing as I completely changed the character’s attitude. There were a few things i had trouble with because of that, but those two were the worst. I was stuck for a while, but I watched The Winter Soldier again and i was like “damn now i gotta write so i can finally write it into this movie.” Fave movie out of all the marvel movies, swear. 
> 
> Anyways, as always, i hope you guys liked it. I don’t take constructive criticism, so please don’t leave any! I’m just writing for fun. 
> 
> NoseyImagines <3
> 
> Tumblr: https://noseyimagines.tumblr.com/


	3. two

_ It was cold, so cold it stung. Every step on the freezing cement was another sharp jolt onto her bare feet, and up her legs. It made her bones feel cold. Other than the rough leather clad hands on her shoulders, that was the only thing she could feel.  _

 

_ The area smelled wet, like water had been pooling about the floors for years, but the floor wasn’t wet at all. She couldn’t feel it if it was. _

 

_ The sharp noise of large boots against the concrete echoed against the walls, reverberating back to (Y/n)’s ears. She almost flinched with each click, but she didn’t. She had gotten used to it over the years. _

 

_ (Y/n) knew all too well where they were heading. The long, dark hallway, which felt longer and darker, the two soldiers, the wet smell. _

 

_ It was session day. _

 

_ The mere thought of the pain she was about to be put through put a pit in (Y/n)’s stomach. Her whole body felt heavier than ever before, she almost drug her feet. She didn’t, knowing resisting would only make things worse.  _

 

_ The needles, the tubes. The electricity. It would hurt tenfold if she were to try to resist, to refuse. She had already tried. _

 

_ Suddenly, she was in the chair again. That same feeling of rough leather poked into her shoulders as she was pushed to lay back. The people around her were hooking her up, placing needles connected to tubes into her arms, wrapping straps around her limbs to keep her down. One long leather strap was wrapped around her chest, and another around both of her knees. She had a tendency to thrash around, they had learned to take the correct precautions so as not to ruin their work. _

 

_ (Y/n) looked around, just trying to get a semblance of who was around her. But, she couldn’t see them. Well, she could, but their faces were smudged, like someone swiped at a still wet painting. The colors were all there, but she just couldn’t make out a single defining feature. Their voices were all distorted as well, raising and lowering in pitch as they all spoke in English and Russian. It mixed and fuddled, (Y/n) couldn’t get a word of what they were saying to process in her brain. It was probably all some medical and scientific jargon, but not knowing what was specifically being said put her on edge.  _

 

_ When wasn’t she on edge? _

 

_ (Y/n)’s head turned towards her right side, almost involuntarily. There he was, The Soldier. His face was the only one that wasn’t distorted at all. Why was that? A rubber mouth guard was placed into her mouth as she continued to stare at the man before her. His whole appearance was something she had never seen before. _

 

_ His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown on his lips. His eyes looked so much lighter than they ever had, she could tell even from the limited times she had even seen them. They were different. His body language was so much easier to read right now. He had his arms crossed, but he was stiff. The metal plating of his left arm rippled up and down. His jaw was tensed. He was uncomfortable. Why was he so easy to read? Why was he uncomfortable? This was a normal scene. _

 

_ His eyes met hers for only a moment, then he looked back to the person on her left, who was currently connecting the tubes to bags, and making sure things were plugged in. _

 

_ “Вы уверены, что это безопасно?” His tone was stern, and the Russian came out very quickly. (Y/n) noted that his voice wasn’t distorted like the others. The question confused her, though. Why did he care if it was safe? He never questioned things, she assumed he would probably be punished too, so what was going on. _

 

_ (Y/n)’s gaze never left the man in front of her, not even when the distorted voice from beside her spoke up. _

 

_ “Конечно. Мы не будем продолжать, если это небезопасно.” _

 

_ She barely understood the response, only hearing the words “continue” and “unsafe”. The person next to her spoke up again, and she could understand the sentence very clearly. _

 

_ “Почему тебя волнует, Зимний Солдат? Мягче?”  _

 

_ Going soft? _

 

_ The Winter Soldier’s eyebrows lowered a little more, before he finally took a step back from (Y/n). She felt a pang of something in her stomach as he stepped away, she couldn't pinpoint it. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to understand what the hell had just happened, but she didn’t get the time to do so. The liquids that she was hooked up to dripped slowly down into the tubes, simultaneously calming her down and sending a searing pain into her muscles. The burning and aching made a couple muscles in her arms and legs twitch rapidly, before finally stilling. Her fingers continued to constantly bend bend and stretch, but that was her own doing. _

 

_ The machines with the tiny needles were lowered down onto her body, hovering above her neck, arms, legs, and stomach. One twitch and she would be stabbed. Not fatally, but hundreds of tiny pin pricks all over her body could hurt pretty badly.  _

 

_ Her head turned towards the person on her left. They were tall, but she couldn't tell who it was. If they were a man or a woman, what they looked like. She didn’t like that. They were flipping switches on the largest part of the machine, and she could hear the whirring noise of it starting up. It wasn’t loud, but it echoed in her head. _

 

_ With one last small switch, the person turned towards her. She could tell they were looking at her, without having to see their face. There was an itch on the back of her neck. Their hand moved up towards the large switch at the end. It was like a lever. _

 

_ They grabbed it, and before pulling it down, they uttered a single phrase in English that was louder than any voice, any machine in the room.  _

 

_ “Good Luck.” _

 

_                                                        _____ _

 

_ Brooklyn, New York _

_ January 13, 2014 _

_ 3:23 pm _

 

With a sharp gasp through her nose, (Y/n) sat up quickly. She whipped her head around, observing the area. The building, her table, her work. She rubbed her face with her shirt sleeve while trying to stifle a yawn, wiping away the drool on her cheek. She did the same to the table where her head had been previously laying. Rolling her stiff shoulders, she rolled up the sleeve of her jacket to check them time on her watch.

 

3:24 pm

 

The lamp and the lights around the area had long since turned off, so it was slightly darker. The only light provided was from the shattered windows behind the sheet walls she had made, and the holes in the ceiling. With furrowed brows, she searched for the bracelets on the table. And there they were, surrounded by scrap pieces and an empty drink.

 

They were finished.

 

This confused her. She didn’t remember finishing them, nor did she remember falling asleep. And it really wasn’t like her to just fall asleep like that, or have weird dreams.

 

Placing her way too warm cheek on the cool metal of the table, she pondered what she had just dreamed. It was definitely too vivid for it to have been a regular dream, so she assumed it was some type of memory she had long since locked up into a mental vault. 

 

Her mind switched over to the man, the Soldier. For as long as she had known him, he had never shown that kind of vulnerability.  He had never been that easy to read, and his eyes had never been that light. They were always stormy, and mostly emotionless. He would either look angry, or like he had no emotions at all, never anything in between or outside. So why did he look so concerned? (Y/n) absolutely understood the risk of questioning their processes. So why did he take that risk to ask that question?

 

A part of (Y/n) hoped to never meet him again to find out, another part knew it was inevitable, that she’d never know. She’d never see him again, and she was alright with that.

 

She had worked for so long to shove all of those memories into her mental vault, trying to just attempt to live a normal life. It was hard, but she had gained just a little bit of what she had been reaching for. So why did these memories resurface? Had it been because of the feeling of been followed? Was it the use of her powers? She didn’t use them very often, not liking knowing that those awful people had given her the ability, so maybe it was a possibility.

 

(Y/n) pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, groaning just a bit before hopping off of the stool. Her back cracked as she stretched. All she wanted to do now was head back to the orphanage, grab something to eat while checking in with Sister Victoria. The old nun, while not being totally comfortable with (Y/n) constantly just leaving, did make sure she checked in with her. She had even bought the teenager a prepaid flip phone, which she usually forgot to grab before leaving, just so that she could call her if she was going to be late. The only numbers in there were Sister Victoria’s, 911, and the hospital. Right now was one of the times she forgot to grab it. She distinctly remembered putting it under her pillow before going to sleep the night before.

 

“Тупой мозг.”

 

While packing up her bookbag, a noise from the floor below caught her attention. It was faint, barely there, but she heard it; something being moved. It was a tiny scrape of metal against the concrete flooring. It could’ve been anything, but the feeling in her stomach told her differently. She turned her head towards the sheets that hid the next landing over, with the chair and the books. 

 

Someone was in the building, someone other than herself. If it were an animal, it would’ve caused more noise. The silence of the building proved that it was a human being, trying to be quiet. So the question is, who else was here?

 

(Y/n) resumed packing up her book bag, planning on what she was going to do. The bookbag was slung over her shoulders, the heavy contents smacking against her back. Her mind was moving around different topics, all revolving around this person in the building with her.

 

_ Did they drug me? Is that why I fell asleep? _

 

_ What do they want? _

 

_ Are they good? _

 

_ Do they know about me? _

 

_ Is it them? _

 

_ How do I get out of here without confrontation? _

 

Once she reached the sheets, she pushed them aside and started climbing over the railings, jumping down onto the box. When her feet hit the floor with a thud, she noticed something. Her ears were starting to ring, quite loudly. She shook her head a bit to try and get rid of the sound, but it didn’t do a thing. She decided to ignore it, continuing on her way out of the building. 

 

The noise somehow made her anxious, which made her fasten her pace, which made her moves messy and her head a bit disoriented. In her hurry to get out of there, she tripped over her own foot. She had never felt this uncoordinated in her life. The fall made her hit her head on the corner of the awfully made table, busting it open and causing blood to drip down the side of her face. There was now a large gash on her left eyebrow. The pain seemed to throb a lot worse than it usually did. That, combined with the awful ringing in her ears, her head was pounding. It made her dizzy.

 

She scrunched her face up while she was on the floor, covering her ears and trying to get the noise to go away. The blood dripping quickly into her hairline and down her cheek completely disregarded. It would heal, what did she care? She just couldn’t understand, nor could she stand, the ringing.

 

(Y/n) quickly flipped herself over, opting to crawl to the ladder. Her plan wasn’t to even set the ladder down, that would take way too long and she just wanted out of there, she was just gunna jump from the landing. It wouldn’t kill her or anything, she’d be fine, maybe a sprained ankle but that would heal too. With one last look to the room, she whipped the sheets to the side and jumped. 

 

The landing was ungraceful and sloppy, she ended up falling onto her hands and knees, but she was down and she was leaving. With her dizzy head she struggled to stand up, having to grab onto a pole to steady herself. Her hair was a mess from covering her ears, and pieces were sticking up from the blood matting it back. She looked like she had just gotten out of a skirmish in an alleyway. 

 

The fourteen year old leaned against the pole, trying to catch her breath, breathing deeply to try and lessen the dizziness. It didn’t work, but she noticed something through her hair that was curtaining her face. 

 

There was someone in one of the closer corners of the building, just sitting and watching. They weren’t moving, but they were sitting with their arms crossed while leaning against the wall. Casual, they weren’t uncomfortable. Either they didn’t hear this awful ringing, or it wasn’t even affecting them. Their presence was familiar, the way their eyes obviously watched her struggle.

 

This was the person who had been following and watching (Y/n) earlier. She could tell just from the feeling of their gaze. She observed them further, furrowing her eyebrows and squinting. Some blood had dripped from the gash on her eyebrow into her eye.

 

It was a woman, she could tell from her form and her height. There wasn’t much light where she was standing, but she could tell that her hair was a fiery red. It was pin straight and brushed against her shoulders. She was wearing a black zip up hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath. She also wore dark skinny jeans and red and black tennis shoes. From the lack of light, (Y/n) couldn't tell how old she was, or if she had noticed her staring.

 

She had definitely noticed her staring, because not long after (Y/n) had observed her, she pushed herself off of the wall and began walking towards her. 

 

(Y/n) shook herself from her stupor and pushed herself from the pole, stumbling towards the door. The ringing hadn’t ceased. Now with not being able to see from one eye added to the mix, (Y/n) was seriously struggling to get to the door. Her feet didn’t seem to want to move correctly, and her body felt heavy. Like trying to run in a dream. She was starting to get angry with herself. Why couldn’t she move? Move, dammit!

 

The woman from before barely picked up her pace, quickly reaching (Y/n) before she had gotten to the doors. Before she could grab the fourteen year old, (Y/n) ripped off her bookbag and threw it at her, knowing the weight would definitely stop her. The bag hit the ground and before she could even looked back towards (Y/n), she threw a strong punch to the woman’s jaw. (Y/n) quickly wiped the blood from her eye so that she could see again. The ringing still hadn’t stopped, but it did seem to diminish a bit. 

 

Her whole body jerked the way (Y/n) had punched her, but she didn’t fall. The woman whipped her body back towards the teenager, looking at her in a bit of disbelief. (Y/n) sent a nasty glare her way. 

 

“Why are you following me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand for a reason. 

 

The woman - who, now that she was closer to (Y/n) and more in the light, had steely blue eyes and was just a couple inches taller than herself - held her hands up to show that she had no weapons, that she wasn’t a threat and like she wasn’t there to hurt her.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, that’s not what I’m here for.” 

 

(Y/n) sent another punch her way, completely ignoring her words. She highly doubted her. Nobody stalks someone for almost four hours and creepily stands in a corner watching them struggle if they didn’t want to hurt them. At the last second, the woman caught her punch. She then reached up and grabbed at her elbow. It was forcefully bent, which gave the woman the advantage to twist her body, throwing her to the ground and effectively pinning her down with her arm held behind her back.

 

The woman sat on (Y/n)’s back, grabbing her other arm and twisting it with the other one. (Y/n) growled at the pain. 

 

The woman flipped her hair out of her face, looking down at the back of (Y/n)’s head. She really hadn’t wanted to get forceful. “I’m sorry for this. I told you I didn’t wanna hurt you.” She muttered, using her knees to hold (Y/n)’s arms down while she brought her wrist up to her mouth. (Y/n) turned her face on the ground so that she could glare up at the woman on her back. 

 

“Хватит врать, сука.” She spat at her, watching the woman’s face contort into something else. She couldn't place the emoticon, she looked almost amused at the insult. 

 

“I’ve been called a lot worse, kid.” She said, a small laugh along with her words.

 

She fully brought the watch to her mouth and began speaking. 

 

“Fury, the target is apprehended. I may need backup.” Her steely blue eyes looked back down to the young girl on the floor. “She’s a little stronger than we thought.”

 

With that comment, (Y/n) had gathered enough strength to buck her body up and to the side, effectively throwing the woman off of her back and freeing her arms from her hold. (Y/n) turned on to her side, putting her hands on to the ground and settling herself. She sent a harsh kick to the woman’s side, which in turn sent her sliding across the floor. (Y/n) quickly pushed herself onto her knees, sending another glare at the woman who was currently trying to catch her breath. Her kicks were vicious and would most definitely leave a large bruise, maybe an internal issue. (Y/n) didn’t even notice that the ringing had almost completely vanished. 

 

“I will not go back.” She growled. 

 

Being called a target to this ‘Fury’ person didn’t sit well with her at all. She knew it, they were back for her. They were here to finish what they started, kill her off or bring her back for the sessions and turn her into a weapon, she didn’t know. 

 

(Y/n) wouldn't let them do either. She’d die by her own hands before she let them kill her. 

 

(Y/n) jumped to her feet, rushing over to grab her bookbag. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge that one of the straps had been ripped, she just slung her arm through the one good one. She turned and ran towards the door, before completely stopping. There were people outside, she could hear them. Their boots stomping on the ground, and the screeching of tires on the pavement. There was no way to tell how many were out there, there were more than three, but she knew that even one person for backup was too many. She didn’t know the sizes of these people, the weapons they carried, nothing. She was almost screwed. 

 

(Y/n) whipped her head around to look back at the woman on the ground, who was now on her hands and knees looking at her. The teen had completely forgotten she had told the Fury person to send in backup. 

 

“Черт. Черт! Вы вызвали для резервного копирования, как я мог забыть?! Черт тебя подери.” She mumbled to herself, all words directed to the woman as she ran towards her one last time. When she finally skidded to a stop in front of the woman, (Y/n)’s hand went to the side of her neck, cupping it lightly, before sending a tiny shock into her body. It wouldn't fatally hurt her, it acted more like a stun gun. It wasn’t even the same voltage that she used to turn the lights on.

 

She hated using it on people all the same, though. So as the woman fell to the floor, unable to move, she quickly ran away from what she had done. Ran towards one of the old offices, where she knew there were holes in the wall, leading outside. She doubted she’d fit, but she’d have to try. As soon as she entered the room, the front doors banged open, the sound echoing all across the building. Sets of combat boots thudded heavily against the floor, along with the sounds of the agents talking in tones that were supposed to be hushed. (Y/n) heard every word.

 

“Agent Romanoff, are you okay?”

 

“Where is the enhanced?”

 

“Secure the area. Make sure the kid cant get in or out of this place without us knowing.”

 

Enhanced? Is that what it was called? Is that what she was called now? 

 

She didn’t ponder too long. With the threat of being caught and taken in, she quickly searched the back wall for the hole she would be climbing through. The copious amounts of dust flying through the sliver of sunlight pointed her in the right direction, right in the corner. Like she thought, it wasn’t a very big hole, but she’d make sure she got herself out. 

 

Her next obstacle was the unrealistic amounts of overturned furniture. Why was there so much furniture in here? There was absolutely no reason for this much furniture in one small space like this. There was a small, rotting, loveseat right in front of her that she started to climb over. After that there was a couple of chairs that she just walked around, being mindful to not bump into them, lest she be found by the patrolling agents. Finally there was the huge wooden desk. It was rotting away and any weight put against it would surely break the thing, causing a ruckus and therefore alerting the agents to where she was.

 

The teenager didn’t even have the chance to try and find a way over it before the agents sent themselves out to find her.

 

“Check every room, every floor of this place. Do not let her get away! Fury’s orders!”

 

Her head whipped around towards the door, hearing multiple pairs of boots coming towards the room. Right before the agent walked into the office, she dove over the desk and pressed herself against the underside of it. Her bookbag was set on the floor next to her legs. Her breathing slowed completely, masking any presence of herself in the room. From where she was hiding, the hole was only about 10 feet to the right from her. If the threat of a person coming in and catching her weren’t hanging over her head, she’d be working herself through it right then. She would have to think of what to do when he inevitably walked over to the desk.

 

The footsteps that entered the room were heavy, obviously not trying in any way to be quiet and sneak up on her, and very slow. Calculated. She walked like that, just not as loudly as this person was. Which meant they already knew where she was, or they were trying to psych her out by making her think they knew where she was. She wasn’t going to fall for it. 

 

She mentally followed him around the room as he checked everything out. The couch was flipped over, and chairs kicked around. A filing cabinet that had been shoved into the corner was pushed over, landing right on the left side of (Y/n) with a loud bang, just about taking out one of the wooden legs. It kicked up dust that flew into her nose and eyes. The urge to cough and rub her eyes was pushed away easily.

 

The man’s heavy boots echoed around the room and became louder the closer to her that he got. At this point, he was right behind her. The only thing shielding (Y/n) from the man behind her was the part of the desk that hid the underneath.

 

(Y/n) decided, then, that now was the time to move. She could hear the others outside, and couldn’t risk the building being completely surrounded before she got out. She knew she would have no chance.

 

Without a sound, (Y/n) slipped her fingers underneath the heavy filing cabinet, crawling in a crouched position out from underneath the desk. When facing the door, she only saw the man’s back. He wore some kind of helmet, and adorned a bullet proof vest. His whole outfit was black, save for a couple pieces of grey. The most important part, though, was the weapon in his arms. It was what looked like a large, long range rifle.

 

(Y/n) wasn’t looking to get shot.

 

With a ferocious grunt, (Y/n) tipped the heavy cabinet back up, and pushed it onto the man before he could even turn back around. It clipped his shoulder, sending him onto the ground. (Y/n) dove for her bookbag, grabbing it by the one useful strap before tossing it towards the hole in the wall. It hit the wall and fell to the ground right next to her exit. 

 

The agent on the floor pushed the cabinet off of himself before speaking rapidly into an earpiece.

 

“I have eyes on the target, I repeat, I have eyes on the target!”

 

He sounded a just little shaken up, but when (Y/n) looked back towards him with a glare that could put out fires, he shrank up. He must’ve been a new recruit or something, maybe not used to seeing this kind of thing. He looked fairly young too, so that could explain why his footsteps were so loud. (Y/n) wasn’t all that surprised.

 

She was surprised, though, when he fearfully held up his gun and carelessly aimed right at her. And she was even more surprised when he pulled the trigger and, instead of a normal bullet like she was preparing for, out came a small cylinder shaped thing with a needle on the end. 

 

A dart. 

 

The dart hit (Y/n)’s shoulder, digging itself deeply into her muscle. The momentum of the shot made her shoulder jerk back, which threw her whole body to the ground. The shock of the whole ordeal didn’t help in keeping her steady. So she landed on the ground with a loud grunt, dust flying up all around her and getting into her mouth and eyes. This time, she didn’t fight the urge to cough and rub her eyes. Her right hand reached up to grab the dart in her shoulder, trying to ease the thing out without causing any more damage. 

 

The agent on the floor in front of her was breathing heavily, obviously not used to this kind of thing. The sound of multiple sets of boots rushing towards her location caused (Y/n) to abandon pulling the stupid dart out, and instead pull her leg back as far as it would go. As soon as even one hair of one of the agents showed up in the doorway, she kicked the desk, sending it over the agent on the floor and into the doorway, effectively stopping them from getting in. Only for a few seconds, but that was all she needed. 

 

She quickly crawled over to the hole, pulling and punching at the pieces of rotting wall that would easily give way. Each broken piece thrown to the floor was another piece towards getting away from these freaks. Her bookbag was pushed outside first, before she punched her hand through a piece right above the hole. While pulling her hand back inside, she grabbed the wall and pulled hard. She had to bring other hand in to pull just a bit harder, seeing as this piece was the only one not rotting away. It was also the only piece standing in her way. It gave way, and it was finally big enough to get herself through. 

 

Her arms went out first, which was difficult with the dart in her left shoulder. Moving it the way she was sent a burning down her arm and up to her neck. She pushed through the pain, though. It was much better than what these people were going to do with her.

 

Once her arms were fully out, she pushed her head out to look around. There was no one. She flipped onto her back so that wiggling out was easier, ignoring the scratches on her sides. When she finally had her shoulders and part of her chest out, she pushed against the wall with her hands. The dart continued to dig into her shoulder. She hissed at the pain. 

 

When she was halfway out, her right foot was grabbed from inside the building. One of the agents had a good hold on her, pulling her harshly back inside. She braced herself on the wall outside, fighting against the idiot pulling her back in. Both legs kicked at her almost capture, getting a few good hits in. They still wouldn't let go. With a groan, (Y/n) started to wiggle the foot in their hold. While kicking their knees with her left foot, she tried to loosen the shoe they had. If she could slip out of the shoe, she would be up and running in a matter of seconds. Her head whipped to the left as she heard the shouts and footsteps of more agents. She’d have to speed this up.

 

Her left leg sent a harsh kick to the back of the person’s knees, sending them to the ground inside. The momentum and pull from the fall effectively tugged the shoe off of her foot, setting her free of their stupidly strong grip. Without an ounce of hesitation, she slipped the rest of the way out, got onto her feet, grabbed her bag, and ran. In the process, she had ripped the dart from her shoulder harshly, and threw it to the ground. (Y/n) ran as fast as she could in the absolute opposite direction of the agents and away from the building. It had been her safe spot, her alone time for so long. It almost hurt to turn from it and let it be ransacked and ruined by those people.

 

Almost.

 

(Y/n) had taught herself to not get too attached to things. They tend to be taken away from her very easily. It almost felt like God - or the universe, she didn’t really know - had it out for her. So it wasn’t all that hard to just turn from it.

 

(Y/n)’s legs carried her as fast and as far as they could. The sound of only one shoe hitting the ground echoed on the weirdly empty sidewalks. She bumped into strangers at times, not bothering to apologize, getting cussed at plenty in return. The hood of her jacket was up at all times, her head tilted down for the most part. She avoided the bigger areas of the city, instead staying in the small neighborhoods at the edge of them. Staying away from cameras and more people settled well enough with her, knowing it would make it harder for them to find her. She ran for so long, the sun had started to set, making the air chilly and street lights turn on. 

 

Truthfully, (Y/n) had no idea what she was going to do. She knew she couldn’t go straight back to the orphanage, not after that. She wouldn't risk leading anyone back to them. They didn’t deserve to be pulled into the mess that was her life. 

 

No, she decided she’d keep out during the night, keep walking where she was. Find her way around, figure out where exactly in Brooklyn she was. Then by the morning, make her way back to the orphanage. The teen, reluctantly, realized she'd probably have to leave New York entirely. Pack what little amount of personal belongings she had and leave, maybe go to one of the other 50 states. She had never bothered to figure out any of the other states. Maybe she could go to Canada, a whole different country. She had heard it was colder up there, it would be nice. 

 

Truthfully, (Y/n) didn’t want to leave New York. She had come there for a reason, and while she couldn’t remember the exact reason, it put a pit in her stomach to think about throwing it all away. Having nearly died plenty of times trying to get there, (Y/n) figured it must have been a damn good reason. 

 

The teen finally slowed to a stop in a small, almost run down neighborhood. Her heart thundered in her chest, and deep breaths came out in small puffs of fog in the air. The sky was nearly completely dark, lilac and black painting a beautiful picture above her head. She was stood under a street lamp, trying to catch her breath after having run nearly 2 hours without stopping or slowing down. That would exhaust anyone. Her legs felt like jelly, her chest stung, her sock was wet from running in the grass at some point, and her shoeless foot ached from constantly beating down on the cold sidewalk. But, she couldn’t just stop. She pulled her arm up to glance at the watch on her wrist. 

 

5:47 pm

 

With a sigh, she brushed her fingers through her hair, stopping when she felt the dried and crusted blood on her forehead and her hairline. Her fingers lightly traced the path down to the cut on her eyebrow, and along the other trail down the side of her cheek. It was all over and around her eye, and when she pulled her hand away, there were spots and streaks of it on her index knuckle and thumb. The cut had healed, not completely, but it was scabbed over. It wasn’t very wide, but it was long, and deep. It would definitely leave a scar. While she healed faster than most people, it didn’t save her from scars, the ones on her legs and arms from fights being proof enough. She must’ve looked crazy, running through Brooklyn, blood all over her face and missing a shoe. The cops had to have been called at least twice during her little marathon. 

 

(Y/n) picked at the blood on her hand while she resumed walking. Her hood was tugged further over her head, head tilted further down to look at the sidewalk as she made her way through the neighborhood. Her stride was stuttered, a limp left behind from the grip of the person who had taken her shoe. She hadn’t even noticed it until she had stopped running and the adrenaline had worn off. Another stupid thing that would have to heal. It hurt like a motherfucker, too. Her jaw tensed with every step, the pain shoot from her ankle up to her shin and knee. Bruises probably littered her body, too. 

 

(Y/n) reached up and rubbed her shoulder, where she had been struck with a dart. It ached, and her arm had felt weak for maybe 20 minutes after she was initially shot, but other than that it was fine. No damaged muscles or nerves, nothing broken. Just an aching wound. She wondered what the point of that had been. A regular tranquilizer wouldn't work on her, they had to of known that.

 

Or they didn’t, which meant they didn’t know much about her to begin with, and they had been winging the entire thing. The only thing they knew was that she was enhanced, and they wanted her. Which meant it wasn’t Hydra. She didn’t feel any better about being hunted, but knowing that her hunters knew nearly nothing about her, about how her powers worked or how strong she was, made things easier for her. 

 

With that new thought in mind, (Y/n) ambled forward, intent on figuring out where she was, and finding her way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (courtesy of google translate pls don’t slaughter me.):
> 
> “Вы уверены, что это безопасно?“ - “Are you sure it is safe?”
> 
> “Конечно. Мы не будем продолжать, если это небезопасно.” - “Of course. We will not continue if it is unsafe.”
> 
> “Почему тебя волнует, Зимний Солдат? Мягче?” - “Why do you care, Winter Soldier? Softer?”
> 
> “Тупой мозг.” - “Dumb brain.”
> 
> “Хватит врать, сука.” - “Stop lying, bitch.”
> 
> "Черт возьми. Черт возьми! Ты призвал подкрепление, как я мог забыть ?! Черт возьми." - "Damn it. Damn it! You called for backup, how could I forget?! Damn you.”
> 
>  
> 
> over 6000 words, and like 6 days later and here it is. Sorry it took so long, I got stuck again. Lmao. It’s only like lightly edited, but i cant read my own shit without thinking it’s awful or getting bored bc i already know what’s gunna happen, and I don’t wanna get an editor. Also, yes, MC is going to have a smart mouth, and is def gunna cuss a lot. It’ll mostly be because she doesn’t understand its not polite, but there will def be times, like this one, where she does it on purpose to rile people up. Love it.
> 
> Anyways, as always, i hope you guys liked it. I don’t take constructive criticism, so please don’t leave any! I’m just writing for fun. 
> 
> NoseyImagines <3
> 
> Tumblr: https://noseyimagines.tumblr.com/


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